


If I Fall Into the Ocean

by galactic_roses



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Alternate lore, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Drama, Dreams, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Near Drowning, Selkie AU, Selkies, Suicidal Thoughts, lowkey body horror, selkie mogens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactic_roses/pseuds/galactic_roses
Summary: Selkie AUJesper arrives in Smeerensburg, and most goes as it does, but something about the island's ferryman is strange. The villagers seem to fear him, and Jesper doesn't know why. When Jesper finds something strange at the docks, his life on the island takes a bit of a wild turn.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen/Mogens
Comments: 42
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original lore surrounding Selkies is pretty depressing, so I mixed it up a bit. 
> 
> I got the title from the song _The Beginning_ by The Dear Hunter
> 
> _If I fall into the ocean,  
>  Send my soul into the sea,  
> Will these reflections trouble me?  
> Will I dream a final dream?_

“Are we beginning to connect the dots?”

Jesper waited for a reaction from this scruffy and grimy ferryman, expecting an immediate rise to action. Instead the man blinked once, then smirked, baring surprisingly sharp-looking teeth without making a move to get up at all.

“Are we, indeed?”

It was _freezing._ Jesper shivered uncontrollably, his fingers feeling like shards of ice, and looked up at the ferryman.

“Is it always this damn cold?” he asked. His teeth chattered.

“Cold?” The ferryman chuckled. “This is hardly cold, my friend. We’re actually having a bit of a warm snap. You should try taking a dip in there instead.” He gestured over the side of the boat. “It’s gloriously warm.”

Jesper glared at him. He was too upbeat for a man who drove a ferry between the mainland and this stupid, minuscule, frigid island. Anyone who’d done that job long enough to collect a coat of dirt and a scruffy beard, the way this man had, couldn’t possibly be genuinely cheerful. The ferryman, noticing Jesper’s glare, grinned back at him, but the smile didn’t reach his jet black eyes. They stayed as cold and dead as the icy water beneath the boat. Jesper shivered again, but not from the cold. His gaze was… unnerving. Wrenching himself away, Jesper turned toward the horizon and refused to look at the ferryman again.

A little while later, as the carriage bumped and bounced up the hill, Jesper began to feel increasingly uneasy. The buildings on either side of the road were full of holes, and covered in spears and various other weapons. A fishing net barely clung to a large, iron canon that hung above the road, suspended between two houses. Jesper looked up at it, mouth agape.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“Oh, um, colorful local traditions, quirky folklore, that kinda thing. All part of this quaint town’s vibrant culture.”

The ferryman’s reply was not comforting. Not in the slightest. The carriage continued to trundle up the road, and Jesper saw three children push an old man in a wheelchair off a porch, then saw two old women carrying something that looked like a body wrapped in sheets. After he made extremely uncomfortable eye contact with a child pushing a carrot into a snowman’s face, he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the road.

Jesper watched, with the kind of calm that is only ever born from panic, while the brawl boiled around him, as every frying pan and club and flying clan member somehow managed to steer clear of the ferryman, who was still sitting in the carriage, smiling benignly. It was odd to see. One plummeting man even tried to swim through the air to avoid colliding with the carriage, his limbs flailing comically. It was as if they were… _afraid_ of him.

Jesper would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it all, but a moment later he was flying through the air himself, and no longer had a thought to spare for anything but where he would land.

“Still checking for those non-existent letters, huh?”

Jesper let out a long suffering sigh and slowly pulled his arm from inside the rusted mailbox. 

“And what makes you think I need your opinion?” he asked, straightening up to fix the ferryman with his best scowl. “I haven’t asked, have I?”

“You don’t need to,” the man replied. He took a long, deliberate pull from his tankard, and smacked his lips. “I can tell you need it. Don’t worry, it’s free of charge.” 

Bristling, Jesper opened his mouth to give the ferryman a piece of his mind, but he made the mistake of meeting the man’s eyes, having forgotten the first time he’d done so. They were like black, bottomless pits. He was unable to look away. A moment later, the crack of a rifle went off overhead, making Jesper leap into the air.

“This f—— town!” he shouted, a second gunshot tactfully interrupting his curses as he took off in the opposite direction. The ferryman watched him go, eyes blank.

* * *

_What the hell is this,_ Jesper wondered. He had only come down to the harbor in search of the ferryman and thus his late shipment of envelopes, but now he stood on the dock, staring down at something that had been draped haphazardly over one of the wooden posts. It was a dark, dusty gray-brown, torn and fraying around the edges, and it looked like it once might have been a leather coat. Jesper guessed that it had been left out to dry or to air, since the only reason it had caught his attention was because it reeked of sea water and… _wet dog?_

Jesper’s well-bred nose wrinkled with disgust, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off this nasty thing. He almost wanted to touch it. It looked soft, like suede maybe? Or velvet? His hand was halfway out toward it when he stopped himself. It was a struggle; his fingers seemed to want to move against his will. What on earth was he doing? This weird, old coat wasn’t his. It might even belong to that ferryman.

“That would actually make sense,” he mumbled to himself. “It’s gross enough.” 

Despite that knowledge, his hand still twitched forward. No one was around. In fact, the place was completely empty. No one was watching him.

His fingertips brushed against the thing. He gasped. Nothing had prepared him for the shock that ran through his body and exploded behind his eyeballs like the most fantastic fireworks he had ever seen. A sweet, astonishing taste flooded his mouth and he nearly choked. He looked down and realized that his hand had fisted itself into the ragged garment. It was as soft as it looked. Inhaling, he found that it no longer smelled disgusting, instead the gentle scents of salt, smoke, and ocean breeze floating from it tickled his nose.

“I’m the son of a powerful, rich man,” Jesper muttered as he lifted the garment and buried his face it it’s folds, “I shouldn’t be doing something like this…”

Suddenly, he jerked upright and looked nervously around. This was bad, what was he doing? No matter what he tried, he couldn’t force himself to put the thing back, so he stuffed it into his coat and retreated hastily up the hill, feeling guilty all the way.

Jesper couldn’t believe what he’d done. Back in the post office, he paced back and forth, tripping over chickens and loose floorboards in turn, ears deaf to the their respective squawks and squeals. What was he going to do now? He’d stolen this… _thing,_ and now he had to deal with it. Him, _stealing?_ It was so beneath his rank! The ratty garment sat on his desk. He stopped to run his hands over the silky softness of the it, marveling at the nearly liquid feel of it against his skin. It needed a good hiding place. A very good hiding place.

“Yes, yes, a hiding place,” he said out loud. “I need—” 

“Oh mister postman~” someone warbled from outside.

A startled jackrabbit would have been hard-pressed to jump higher than Jesper did at the sound of the voice. He snatched the thing off his desk and ran upstairs in a panic. The bed seemed like a likely hiding spot, at least temporarily, so he shoved the thing under the covers and ran back downstairs.

“I’m not doing anything! I’m definitely not— what do you want?” he shouted frantically. The window beside Jesper popped open, nearly scaring him out of his skin. His foot caught on one of those _damn_ loose floorboards and he went sprawling.

“My my, postman, does this mean you’ve _fallen_ for me?”

Jesper, flushed with humiliation and annoyance, looked up into the familiar, smugly grinning face of the ferryman.

“I have most certainly not—” he spluttered, pushing himself to his feet. “What did you say you wanted?”

“Oh, I haven’t said anything yet,” the man drawled. He looked Jesper up and down for a moment, and Jesper saw something in his gaze that had never been there before. There was a mischievous light dancing in the blackness of his eyes now, though some of the deep emptiness seemed to remain behind the sparkle. 

“Well, say something or go away,” Jesper snapped. “I’m very busy.”

“I can see that.” 

The ferryman’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Ignoring him as best as he could, Jesper turned and stalked around his desk and began to file the letters he’d managed to coerce from the town’s children. The chickens around him clucked. When he turned around to grab another letter, the ferryman was still leaning through the window, chin propped on one fist, watching him intently.

“Why aren’t you headed to the mainland?” Jesper snapped at him. 

“Hmm?” The man’s thick eyebrows rose into perfect arches. “Was I supposed to do that today?”

“I believe you were due there yesterday, actually, so pip-pip, go on, shoo.” 

Jesper waggled his fingers in what he hoped was an authoritative way, then turned his back again.

“Hmm… well, I can hardly deny a command from my favorite postman,” he heard Mogens say, and when he peeped over his shoulder to check, the man was gone.

_That was surprisingly easy,_ Jesper thought. _I’m surprised he didn’t put up more of a fight. I really do need to find out what his name is, I don’t think I ever asked._ He blew out a breath, and continued to sort letters. Even as he worked, his mind continued to shift back to the thing he’d stolen. He’d never been a thief before, so why now? The thing shone in his mind. Deeply distracted, he put down the letters and went upstairs again, pulling back the covers on the bed to reveal his prize. 

It shone faintly in the afternoon light, still the same dusty gray-brown. Jesper reached out a hand to stroke the thing. It was so soft. He wanted nothing more than to just stand there and run his hands over it all afternoon, but he didn’t have time for that.

_Hiding place, a better hiding place,_ he pondered, scooping the thing up into his arms. _Where is a good place that no one ever goes except me?_

Jesper paced, absently caressing the garment. He looked a bit closer at the thing, and realized what it reminded him of.

_It’s like some sort of pelt,_ he thought. _From what animal?_ He had no idea where it had come from or who it had belonged to, only that he _really_ didn’t want to give it back. He couldn’t even fathom the idea. What was he going to do? Nearly every place in this poor excuse of a shack was either falling apart or already completely broken. The stove wasn’t a good place, all the cupboards had holes in them, the outhouse was out of the question… 

The bed caught his eye once more, and he stopped to consider the possibility. It had been made from an old sled, with the thinnest, meanest futon flopped on top. In the sheets wouldn’t be comfortable, and under the pillow was weird, but what if… He lifted the futon and investigated the sled. It was made of sturdy enough wood, despite most likely being as old as Jesper himself, and though there were some holes in the planks, it seemed as if it would hold.

“This looks like it might be the best place for now,” Jesper said to himself. He carefully laid the strange pelt on the slats, then lowered the mattress down on top of it, praying it wouldn’t get mashed too badly. Dropping to his knees, he looked under the bed. The only part of the thing he could see was a faint shimmer of gray-brown through a few of the holes in the sled. If anyone got down to investigate under the bed, they’d have to look pretty hard to find anything.

Now that the pelt was hidden, Jesper could focus on his work. He went about his day like normal, and that night, he dreamed of icy ocean depths.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for blood and injury

Jesper woke the next morning to the crowing of the rooster above his head as usual, but something was different. He sniffed. Smoke? His sleepy brain took a moment to register that stimulus, but when it did, he rocketed out of bed and shot down the stairs, nearly colliding with the wall in his haste. Had he forgotten to put the stove out last night? Had something caught fire? The spectacle that met his eyes when he finally managed to arrive downstairs stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Good morning, chief! How are we feeling today?”

The ferryman reclined in Jesper’s rickety chair, his boots propped up on the desk, shedding snow and pine needles all over the papers that Jesper had left out. He sipped from a mug, then grinned up at the postman. Jesper was beginning to hate that particular expression; it always seemed to be the prelude to a nasty headache.

“What are you doing in my house?” Jesper asked indignantly. “And get your nasty feet off my desk!”

The ferryman made no move to obey, instead he gestured at the desk beside him, where a teapot steamed.

“Took the liberty of making some tea,” he drawled. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I do mind! Get out of my house!” 

The ferryman let out an extremely windy sigh. His boots hit the floor with a thump, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“You’re as cold as this spring morning, mister postman,” he said sadly, casting Jesper an almost puppy-dog-pathetic look. The chickens ran squawking through his feet as he strolled around the desk and paused beside Jesper, looking him up and down with twinkling eyes.

“Nice underwear.”

The ferryman’s guffaws were clearly audible even after Jesper slammed the door behind him. Leaning against the door, Jesper gasped for breath and rubbed his arms. It really was cold, despite it being late April. The scent of musk and salt lingered in the air even though the ferryman was gone, reminding Jesper vaguely of… something.

After a moment, Jesper sat down and poured himself a mug of tea before he’d had time to think about what he was doing. He scowled. That ferryman had no right to waltz into his living space and mess with his things uninvited. The mug touched his lips, and he raised his eyebrows. This tea rivaled some that he’d drunk back at his home on the mainland. It wasn’t like the weak brew he’d been making for himself in the months since his arrival on Smeerensburg. He sipped again. What had that ferryman put in here to make it taste like this? Hoping desperately that it wasn’t anything gross or illegal, Jesper finished the mug and poured another. 

The next morning, Jesper woke to the smell of smoke again. He shot down the stairs and ordered the ferryman out, then slammed the door behind him. Once again, the man had made tea, which Jesper grudgingly drank. It was as good as it had been the day before.

The same thing happened the next day, and the day after that. After a week, Jesper only had to chuck something down the stairs for the ferryman to heave himself out of the chair and drag his feet all the way out the door. It was like being adopted by a stray cat. Soon, he began finding the ferryman in the post office when he returned from his days work. Once, he even found the man snoozing on the porch late at night when he’d come home from attempting to coerce letters from the townsfolk. He was exhausted, and didn’t have the energy or the heart to wake him up.

The next day, Jesper woke from fitful sleep to the sound of the rooster as normal, and hauled himself out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and socks, then boots, and tramped down the stairs. The ferryman was once again reclining in Jesper’s chair, boots propped up on the desk, mug in hand. Ignoring him, Jesper poured himself his own cup and drank. The tea warmed his insides and chased away the night’s chills, enough so that he could find the energy to locate the few eggs that the chickens had produced the day before. Still paying no attention to the ferryman, Jesper wiped out his cast iron pan and plonked it onto the already hot stove. He found the hunk of frozen butter that he’d stuffed into the wall of snow in the pantry, dug out a piece, dropped it into the smoking pan, and sighed. He still hated cooking, but he’d been on the island long enough that he could finally make himself breakfast without burning the food to a crisp.

“No rebuke this morning?” the ferryman asked, sounding shocked. “No boot out the door? No ‘get out of my house’?” 

Jesper didn’t reply, as he was occupied with cracking the eggs. He’d found four of them, and each one went into the steaming pan, though a tiny voice in the back of his head told him he wasn’t thinking straight. When the eggs were cooked, he grabbed a plate and a bowl from nearby and dumped two eggs into each vessel. The bowl then thunked loudly onto the top of the desk.

“What—”

Still too tired and grumpy to deal with the man, Jesper grabbed the jar of crude salt and a tarnished, bent fork, and dropped onto the stairs to eat his breakfast. He focused on the meal. He’d done well this morning; the eggs were cooked perfectly, with just a little of the yolk still runny in the middle. After sprinkling some salt over them, he screwed on the lid and tossed it toward the ferryman, then returned to his food. When he didn’t hear a crash or the shattering of glass, he assumed that the man had caught the jar.

“This sure is a new development,” the ferryman said. “What’s gotten into you, postman?”

Getting nothing more than a grunt in reply, the man shrugged and settled into devouring the offering without another comment.

Jesper finished, stood, and once again caught his toe on one of the loose floorboards, sprawling forward with a curse. The plate shattered. Eyes closing for impact, Jesper hit the floor, and a sharp pain registered on his left palm.

“Beautiful tumble! I’d rate it a seven out of ten! …Postman?”

The pain was beginning to make Jesper a little dizzy.

“That hurt,” he mumbled, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Opening his eyes, he looked down to assess the damage. His knees were dirty but otherwise unhurt. A bright spot of red caught his attention, and he turned his left hand over. Crimson liquid welled from a slice in his palm, spilling over to drip onto his pants.

“Is that…” he squeaked, his vision going dark around the edges, “b-blood?”

“What, you never seen a little blood before?” the ferryman drawled. “You must have had an easy childhood— postman? Ah.”

Jesper teetered, and slumped over backwards as blackness swamped his mind.

“ _Creutair mara, ceangailte ris an fhearann le làimh aon duine…_ ” a scratchy voice sang. “ _Thoir dhomh am pìos dhòmhsa a ghoid thu air ais…_ ” 

The low, soft sound of singing brought Jesper slowly floating back to consciousness. He opened his eyes.

“Wha- what happened?” he muttered. “What am I doing on the floor?”

“Shh, stop wriggling, I’m almost done.”

Jesper lifted his head, and saw that the ferryman had knelt down beside him and was wrapping his sliced hand in bandages that he seemed to have pulled from thin air, since Jesper certainly hadn’t thought about having any bandages around. The man ripped the final strip of cloth with his teeth, then placed Jesper’s hand back on his stomach, the touch sending a tingle over Jesper’s skin.

“Didn’t know you were scared of the color red, postman,” the ferryman drawled, sitting back on his heels. “You dropped so fast I thought you’d up and died. You scared of purple things, too? What about pink?”

“Shut up,” Jesper grumbled. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I’m not scared of the color red.”

“You sure?” the man asked, grinning and holding up a bloodstained cloth. At the sight, Jesper’s vision went gray.

“Alright, alright,” the ferryman said, and managed to catch Jesper before he hit the ground again. He stood and hauled Jesper to his feet. “Let’s get you some more tea, shall we?”

Accepting the mug with his undamaged right hand, Jesper investigated the bandaging on his left palm. It ached a bit, but whatever the ferryman had done had gotten rid of most of the sting.

“Thanks for this,” Jesper said eventually. He waved the injured hand so the ferryman could tell what he was talking about.

“Oh, don’t thank me,” the man replied. “There’s no need. I’ll be off, then.” 

“Wait—” 

The door slammed. Jesper let out a sigh, and rubbed a finger over his bandaged palm, then made to stand up, but a sound from outside made him pause and listen.

“Good morning, miss Alva! You look very nice today!” 

That voice was unmistakably the ferryman.

“Go away, Mogens,” came the curt reply. 

_So his name is Mogens, then,_ Jesper thought. He finally stood, just in time for the door to swing open.

“Alright, Jesper, is this some sort of prank you’re pulling?” Alva asked, and waved a letter at him, her eyes daring him to admit to whatever crime she thought he’d committed.

“I haven’t pulled anything but my back this morning, thanks for asking,” Jesper replied irritably. He was still a bit nauseous from passing out, and still tired from his night of poor sleep, so he wasn’t feeling especially friendly. 

“Then who is sending me these?”

Alva pulled two more letters out from her pockets.

“I never delivered any letters to you,” Jesper said. “I’m sure I’d remember if I had. Now if that’s all, I have work to do.” 

Alva snorted with disgust and stalked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Creutair mara, ceangailte ris an fhearann le làimh aon duine... Thoir dhomh am pìos dhòmhsa a ghoid thu air ais..._ is a scottish gaelic google translate (so rough and probably inaccurate) translation of "A creature of the sea, tied to the land by the hand of one man... Give me back the piece of me you stole..."  
> As far as I researched, Selkie lore most likely originated in Scotland, so I figured a Selkie language could be an old Scottish Language.


	3. Chapter 3

“Up and at ’em, mister postman,” said a voice in Jesper’s ear, “or you’ll be late for your morning jaunt.” 

Jesper sat bolt upright and nearly knocked noses with the ferryman, Mogens. 

“What are you doing up here?” Jesper demanded furiously. He’d been having a lovely dream about sleeping on a warm rock with the scent of the ocean around him, and wasn’t pleased to be woken in such a manner. “If you must invade my house, at least stay downstairs! This is my bedroom!”

“Is it?” Mogens asked, thrusting his hands in his pockets. “I had no idea. Nice place.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Jesper snapped. He tossed off the covers and began to dress as Mogens wandered around the room, poking into the corners and looking on the shelves.

Finished dressing, Jesper turned in time to see the ferryman bend to peer under the bed.

“Hey, I told you to get out of here! Out!” 

Mogens straightened and eyed him balefully. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, and headed for the stairs. Watching him go, Jesper suddenly felt uneasy. What was the man looking for, and why had he looked under the bed?

* * *

Jesper stopped attempting to kick Mogens out of the post office every morning, as he discovered that it was only a waste of his energy. No matter what he did, the ferryman always returned the next morning. Jesper didn’t have extra energy to spend; he was still struggling to find a way to convince the villagers to send letters. He’d failed at every turn, and was beginning to feel quite disheartened, if not downright depressed. When he felt particularly bad, he would wait until he was alone, then go upstairs and spend some time running his hands over the pelt, though that only helped him feel better for a little while. He would have to face his problem sooner or later. 

* * *

“Good morning, miss Alva, you’re looking especially nice today!”

“What are you skulking around here for, Mogens? Shouldn’t you be doing your job?”

Jesper, sitting at his desk, heard the exchange from outside and stopped what he was doing to listen.

“Hardly a friendly greeting, miss,” the ferryman said, sounding completely unperturbed. “Plus, you of all people should know what I’m doing here, it’s hardly out of the ordinary for me. Good day.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“I said, good day.” 

A moment later, the post office door swung open so hard it jumped off its hinges and fell to the floor with a bang. Seemingly unaware of the damage she’d just created, Alva strode inside, nostrils flaring, her eyes nearly throwing sparks.

“ _What have you done, postman?_ ” she hissed, slamming her hands on Jesper’s desk so hard that a bottle of ink toppled off the edge.

“Wh-what?”

“Why has the ferryman been hanging around here so much? What has he said to you? _Tell me!_ ”

“I don’t know why he’s been around, and nothing,” Jesper gasped. “He just makes tea, annoys me, and then leaves!”

“Does he come here at night, too?”

“That’s hardly your business—”

“ _Does he?_ ”

“Yes, he does! At least, sometimes. Why?”

Alva looked aghast, then she covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, and fell into a nearby chair with a thump. 

“Of course he hasn’t said anything,” she mumbled. Her fingers twisted in her scarf, worrying the fraying edges until the threads stuck out at strange angles. Jesper waited for her to say something, but she just continued to stare at the desk until he spoke.

“Are you alri—”

“Do you believe in the supernatural, Jesper?” 

The question stumped him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“I mean exactly that, do you believe in the supernatural?”

“Like fairytales?”

Alva snorted and began to toy with the ends of her hair.

“Sure, we can go with that.”

“I stopped believing in fairytales when I was five, Alva. What are you getting at?” 

“I can’t really explain. Did you…” she swallowed nervously, “…find anything odd lately? Like an old, ratty coat that you’d never seen before?”

A fist locked around Jesper’s throat. How had she known? Should he tell the truth?

“Don’t even answer, I can see it in your face,” Alva said grimly. She stood up and began to pace.

“And you took it, didn’t you? God… No one… in so long… even considered… but the consequences…” she muttered, apparently to herself. She turned abruptly and slapped her hands on the desk once more, making Jesper start.

“You’re playing with fire, postman,” she told him. “You have no idea what you’ve set in motion. If I were you, I’d chuck that… _thing_ … back into the sea where it came from, and get on with your life.” 

And with that, Alva swung around and stomped out of the post office, not even bothering to replace the door on its hinges. Jesper stared after her, mouth agape. What had she meant, _back into the sea where it came from_? He’d found it on the docks, not in the water. Maybe she was just delusional. 

“How did she know about the pelt, though?” Jesper muttered to himself. He scratched his chin, feeling the bristle of week-old stubble against his fingertips. In his growing despair surrounding the post situation on the island, he’d begun to neglect his appearance. He grunted, made a half-hearted resolution to shave later, and got up to start his day.

* * *

Freezing spring turned to a melty, wet summer, and Jesper was beginning to give up hope. The stubborn townsfolk of Smeerensburg had refused to budge even an inch when it came to their family feuding, and not one had given in to send a letter, not even to their own family. He’d tried nearly every house in town, and had come out of the experience with a multitude of painful injuries. These days he only made a circuit of the town out of habit, half-heartedly opening a mailbox every now and again.

Mogens continued to hang around the post office as the days passed, annoying and charming Jesper in equal measure. Jesper had even grown used to the company, and was surprised on the occasional day that he didn’t find the ferryman downstairs in the morning, leaning back in his chair with his boots on the desk. On those days, he felt more lost than usual as he went about his daily, frustrating business.

It was on one of the mornings when the ferryman was absent that Jesper decided to go looking for him. It wasn’t exactly a conscious decision, but after he ate breakfast he found himself walking down the hill toward the docks anyway.

The ferryman was standing on the wooden planks of the dock, simply staring out at the ocean, and he didn’t move as Jesper approached. 

“You look busy this morning, Mogens,” Jesper said. He stopped beside the shorter man and glanced sideways at him, trying to gauge his reaction to the comment. Instead of the usual snark, the ferryman looked… Jesper gulped. The man’s eyes were flat and empty, his face set and so profoundly sad that Jesper almost took a step back in surprise. He stopped himself, as a step backward would mean an icy dip in the frigid water, and asked,

“Mogens? Is everything alright?”

It took several long moments for the ferryman to respond. He blinked once, then swiveled around toward Jesper, and his mouth hastily formed into his signature toothy grin.

“Of course, of course! Everything is just fine.” 

The sparkle in his eyes was unconvincing, and it died when he turned back to look out at the sea once more. 

“The ocean sure is beautiful when the light is like this,” he said. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “Like a jewel, y’know? Glittery.” 

Jesper nodded, unsure of how else to respond. The man was correct, the sight was quite pretty with the sun at this particular angle, but not much more than it was on the average day. Staring out at the horizon, Jesper scratched his stubbly chin.

The ferryman sighed. He continued to look out at the horizon, eyes empty and sad. 

“Alright, I’m going back to the post office,” Jesper said, and shrugged. “…I practically missed your tea this morning.” 

Mogens inhaled sharply, then let out a short chuckle. 

“I’m touched, postman. It’s almost like you don’t hate me after all.”

“Almost,” Jesper agreed with a chuckle of his own, and he turned to go. A warm hand fastened around his wrist. The touch sent a shock up his arm and a sweet taste he could almost remember flooding into his mouth.

“Wha- what?” he gasped, looking down at the hand and then into Mogens’ suddenly worried eyes. “What?”

The ferryman’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed once, blinked again, and released Jesper’s arm. 

“Oh, since you seem to trip so much I just assumed…” he said with an attempt at his casual drawl. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, and gave a falsely ingratiating smile.

“I’m not going to tr— whoa!” 

Jesper’s toe did, in fact, catch on one of the boards then, and he lurched forward. A moment later, he found himself dangling in the air, his nose inches from the dock, a thick, surprisingly muscled arm secure around his waist.

“I’m flattered that you keep falling for me, postman, but I’m not sure it would work out between us,” Mogens drawled, and despite his embarrassment, Jesper was relieved to hear the man sounding much more like his typical self.

“I’m not— aah!” Jesper yelped as Mogens righted him with a swift movement. 

“Don’t deny it, this is the third time it’s happened, after all,” the ferryman said, then watched as Jesper mouthed for a moment, turned up his nose, and walked away. As soon as the postman was far enough up the hill, Mogens allowed his face to fall. He turned back to the ocean.


	4. Chapter 4

“Listen Jesper, this is nice and all, but it’s getting to be a bit much.”

Alva flapped an envelope in front of Jesper’s long nose, waking him from a light snooze. He straightened in his chair and fixed Alva with a sleepy, irritable gaze. He’d been dreaming of swimming through the depths, loving the feeling of his lithe body moving through the water, and the abrupt return to reality was not pleasant in any terms.

“What are you even talking about?”

“These letters, Jesper! I know you’re the one sending them, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Jesper managed to snatch the envelope out of the air as it whizzed past his face again. Before Alva could protest, he opened the letter and began to read.

_Dear Miss Alva,_

_Amongst the fish, you shine like a beautiful pearl. I long for the day when I will finally have the confidence to introduce myself in person. Until then, may you always be favored by both sun and sea._

There was no signature. Jesper looked up at Alva, his mouth quirked into a wry half-smile.

“Dear miss Alva,” Jesper said, doing his best to keep the mocking tone from his voice and failing, “I believe I have already introduced myself to you. Also, that chicken scratch—” a chicken behind him clucked helpfully, “—is nothing like my handwriting. I have been educated, you know.”

The sneer that slid onto Alva’s face was nothing short of artfully crafted.

“Well, you’re as pleasant as ever, Jesper. How am I supposed to know that it isn’t you anyway?”

“Mm, hellooo? Postman, are you in?”

Alva stiffened like she’d been jabbed in the ribs. Her face went pale.

“Since when has it mattered to you if I’m in or not, Mogens?” Jesper asked loudly. “Just come in like you always do.”

The door swung open and the ferryman strolled inside, a pleased and lazy grin stretching his wide mouth.

“Hello, miss Alva. You look lovely today,” he drawled, sounding very insincere. The look Alva sent him was as frosty as the winter wind, but the ferryman seemed unaffected. He ignored her and strolled around the desk to peer at the letter in Jesper’s hands, resting a hand casually on the postman’s shoulder. A shiver ran over Jesper’s skin, then the letter whisked out of his fingers.

“This is personal,” Alva snapped. She glared at Mogens. “Keep your… _snout_ out of it.”

“Touchy,” Mogens replied. He shrugged, and his hand tightened on Jesper’s shoulder for a moment before he released his grip and wandered around to stare out the window. Turning back to Alva, Jesper mimicked the man’s shrug.

“Alright, do you believe that it’s not me sending you those letters yet? See, look,” Jesper said, grabbing a piece of paper and writing a few words down, then showing her the scrawl. “My handwriting is completely different.”

“…Fine. Who is sending them, then? Haven’t you been delivering them?”

“Nope,” Jesper replied. “I haven’t been delivering any letters.”

He grimaced; saying the words was like rubbing salt into a wound. Alva smirked.

“I guess I can believe that,” she said. She looked down at the letter, and a faint pink blush spread across her cheeks.

“I guess your secret admirer is gonna stay a secret, then,” Mogens drawled, having reappeared next to Jesper. “Not much you can do, unless you’re planning on staking out your mailbox all day.”

“Shut it,” Alva snapped at him. She grimaced, then stuffed the letters back into her pocket. “Whatever. I’ll figure this out on my own then.”

“Good luck!” the ferryman said.

“I’ll be here if you ever need to mail a response,” Jesper added.

With one last, disgusted look at them both, Alva left.

“Who pissed in her breakfast?” Mogens asked once he thought she was out of earshot. A snowball flew through the still open door and missed hitting the ferryman’s face, but only because he ducked.

* * *

Jesper moaned as he flopped into his chair. His feet were freezing and ached from traipsing around the town all day. Still no letters. It was nearly August, and he’d tried _everything._ He shrugged off his coat and flopped down on the desk with a groan of despair. He was never going to get off this accursed island, with its freezing weather, its grumpy inhabitants, and its infuriating ferryman.

_The ferryman…_ Jesper let out another tiny groan at the thought of him. Lately, Mogens had taken to spending long hours down at the docks, just staring out at the ocean, and though he hated to admit it, Jesper had begun to miss the man. The very idea annoyed him. How could he possibly be attached in any capacity to the ferryman? He was Jesper Johanssen, postman-extraordinaire, good-looking, rich, intelligent, and suave. How could he even begin to care about that dirty, rude, sarcastic, sweet… he sat up and slapped himself on both cheeks. What was he thinking? He looked around the room for a distraction, caught sight of the map where he’d been keeping track of his lack of progress, and flopped back down on the desk. Who was he kidding? He’d made zero progress in Smeerensburg, he was going to get cut off from his father’s fortune and be poor for the rest of his life, and the only person on the entire godforsaken island who seemed to want to be anywhere near him was the ferryman. Jesper closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off. He dreamed.

_The sea lapped around him as he watched the docks from a safe distance, his breath misting in the freezing air. Despite the icy water, he was warm, kept so by his beautiful pelt and his body fat, and was quite content to float peacefully among the ice chunks._

_He knew he wasn’t being as careful as he should be; he’d been warned countless times about the dangers of humans. ‘They’ll steal your pelt,’ his mother had told him, nudging him with her nose. ‘They’ll keep you prisoner on the land.’ But he’d never really listened to her warnings. Humans were interesting. They scurried about on their stick-like legs as if they’d never see the sun again once it set. He’d always been curious about them, ever since he was a pup. That curiosity had led him into a few near misses, but still he found himself drawn to the shore. Today would be different._

_He dove into the water, swimming through the icy depths, and made his way along the coast toward a secluded beach he had discovered only a few months ago. Grunting with effort, he flopped his thick body up onto the beach. This part was uncomfortable. The process of shedding his skin, though magical, was itchy and irritating, and it took several long minutes. He scratched and wriggled until the skin around his nose began to fray. Encouraged, he rubbed the area on the sand and snow._

_The skin began to peel away from his face, then his shoulders, then his torso. Cold air hit his sensitive skin and he shivered, hoping that the human clothes he’d found and stashed away were still there. His breath escaped in white clouds. He looked down at the strange appendages he now possessed instead of flippers, wiggling each individual shrimp-like digit._

_“Cho neònach,” he rasped. His throat felt odd, his new vocal chords humming weirdly as he spoke. Using his strange new appendages, he scooped up his skin and folded it carefully, then pushed himself upward. When he tried to stand, he almost pitched forward. The wobbly things he needed to support him weren’t cooperating with his desire to move, however, after a few minutes of practice his muscles remembered how to walk._

_The clothes he’d hidden were indeed still where he’d left them. It took him another few minutes to recall how to dress, but eventually he was wearing the clothes properly, or at least he thought. He tucked his skin in the bag he’d used to hide the clothes, then shouldered it and turned._

_“Who… are you?”_

Jesper woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright in his chair. His chest heaved. He looked around in a vague panic, then realized he was still in the post office, not out in the snowy forest, and flopped back onto the desk.

“Urgh…” he grunted. Too depressed and tired to get up and make tea, he pressed his face into the desk, then turned his head to stare at the wall.

The window snapped open, but he didn’t even jump. 

“Is this a bad time? I can see you’re pretty swamped,” someone said. Judging by the voice, and the sarcastic delivery…

“Don’t… you have… a job, or something?” Jesper mumbled to the wall.

“Why, sure I do, I’m here to pick up all the outgoing mail.” 

The ferryman sounded especially chipper this morning, and Jesper was in no mood for it. He kept staring at the wall, wishing he could be left alone to brood.

“So, where is it?” Mogens continued. “Now, you’re gonna have to help me with the heavier bags. Bad back, dontcha know.”

“Go away, Mogens.”

“Why would I? You know I can’t shirk my duties as Smeerensburg’s only carrier for outgoing mail.”

“But you do, all the time,” Jesper grumbled. He zoned out as Mogens continued his rambling, but then his attention was caught by the fluttering corner of the map that he’d stuck to the wall. The corner had come undone and was moving gently in the wind. Jesper picked up a nearby broom without straightening and used the handle to re-stick the corner. He hadn’t noticed before, but the map showed three buildings up on the northeastern point of the island.

“What’s that?” he muttered. 

“What, oh, the woodsman’s cabin?” the ferryman said. Jesper felt a tiny spark of hope for his postman career.

“Does someone live there?” he asked, staring at the map.

“Oh, sure! Yeah, you should definitely drop by. Nice fella, loves visitors.”

A moment of silence passed, then Jesper straightened and fixed a bleary eye on the man. Mogens’ jet eyed twinkled wickedly, and Jesper suddenly felt a surge of foreboding wash over him.

“Loves visitors, the way that damn bell heralds a reception, I bet,” he said sourly. He stood, walked around the desk, and passed the window, absently patting the ferryman on the cheek. “If you’re here, why don’t you stop being a nuisance and get the tea. Yours is better than the stuff I make, anyway.”

The sound of Mogens’ sharp intake of breath made Jesper grin, then the man disappeared from the window and reappeared in the front doorway.

“Your tea really is terrible,” the ferryman said, strolling inside. “You shouldn’t leave it lying around, it might injure someone.”

Muttering darkly, Jesper began to scrounge for breakfast.

“Y’know, I had a weirdly vivid dream last night,” he said, and dug his arm into the snowy pantry for the butter. “I can remember almost all of it, which never happens. Let’s see…” 

He retrieved the butter and bent to check for eggs in the crate. Then he looked under his chair.

“I was a seal? And I shed my…”

Gasping, he straightened and whacked his head smartly on the underside of the desk. When he emerged from beneath the furniture, swearing, he found Mogens staring at him oddly, his black eyes suddenly wide and empty.

“I guess I don’t remember as much as I thought I did,” Jesper babbled, unsettled by the man’s gaze, “I must be thinking of that book I once read, you know, that one, about the seals…”

He trailed off, feeling acutely uncomfortable, but after a beat of silence, Mogens grinned and the sparkle was back in his eyes.

“Dreams are whimsical things, aren’t they?” he said, but he didn’t seem to care to embellish, so they stayed quiet after that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cho neònach = so strange
> 
> Again, poor Scottish Gaelic


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter tonight

Jesper’s life took a rather wild turn after that day. He did go to the woodsman’s hut, and found himself caught up in a wild scheme that more often than not ended with him stuck in someone’s fireplace in the dead of night, trying to avoid the snapping jaws of the household dogs. The letters began to pour in, and Jesper spent more and more time out late at night, delivering toys with the woodsman, Klaus. On the good nights, he returned to the post office in one piece before dawn broke, and on the rougher nights he returned after the sun had risen, covered in bruises and scrapes. Nearly every morning, he would find the ferryman in his typical spot at Jesper’s desk, a steaming pot of tea sitting on the desk beside his feet. Grateful for the hot drink before he finally went to bed for a few hours, Jesper didn’t even admonish the man for leaving snow and pine needles on his papers.

One particularly rough morning, Jesper dragged himself into the post office as the rooster crowed. Mogens, from his seat behind the desk, looked up from the book in his hands and raised his eyebrows.

“Another night of smooth sailing, I take it?” he drawled. “You look quite rested.”

Grunting, Jesper shoved himself to his feet and walked over to the desk.

“I’m going to bed,” he mumbled, pouring himself a cup of the tea. “Don’t wake me up until at least noon.”

He sipped his tea, bent and absently kissed the ferryman on the cheek, and then made his way toward the stairs. His foot was on the bottom step before he realized what he’d done, and he froze. The vertebrae in his neck cracked as he turned with painful slowness to look behind him, just in time to catch the empty, lost expression on Mogens’ face before it vanished.

“You must’ve knocked your head harder than I thought during your evening’s adventure,” the man drawled lightly. “Concussions are no joke, you should definitely go rest… I’ll keep the tea warm.”

Jesper practically flew upstairs and jumped into his bed. His cheeks were burning. What had he been thinking? Mogens wasn’t his… husband, or anything like that, he’d just forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to… Mogens had just been hanging around so often that he’d become a part of Jesper’s day without the postman realizing. He certainly had never kissed the other man in any shape or form before, so why had he done it now? The gesture had felt almost like a reflex, and had happened before he’d even thought about what he was doing. 

_How embarrassing,_ he thought, burying himself deeper in the covers. _I won’t be able to look him in the eye for a week._

Jesper was deep in thought. He strolled through town, not paying attention to any of his surroundings, and mulled things over, nibbling on his bottom lip. His operation with Klaus was still gaining speed as children spread the word around the town, but he still felt uneasy. A lot could go wrong.

He shook his head, and his thoughts turned to his other problem. The ferryman. Jesper grimaced and felt heat rising into his face. He’d been right, it had been at least a week before he could meet Mogens’ dancing black eyes again after the… incident. It had been so embarrassing that as soon as he’d made it to the bottom of the stairs, he’d practically run through the main room and out the door before Mogens could even offer him a sarcastic comment. The awkwardness had only lasted a few days for him though. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to be uncomfortable in the ferryman’s presence. He was almost beginning to enjoy the company.

This thought annoyed him enough that he stopped in his tracks, frowning, and looked up in time to see a beet-red Alva talking to a woman he didn’t recognize. The stranger was only a bit taller than Alva, thin and willowy in build, and most likely a Krum, judging by the crow-black hair that she wore in a braid that coiled around her head like a crown. Jesper had seen her around the village, and usually she held herself like a queen, but at this moment she was bent slightly and about as red as Alva.

Jesper stared. He watched as the two women talked for another minute, then Alva noticed him. Her eyes widened, then she shot him a look of mixed venom and mortification. The message was clear; he would find himself bodily thrown into the nearest garbage heap if he didn’t mind his own business and get out of there quickly.

Picking up his pace, Jesper made his way back toward the post office, hoping for a bit of cover just in case Alva decided he needed to fly into some garbage anyway. Thinking as he jogged, he realized that this might be the answer to the letters Alva had been accusing him of sending. He grinned.

“You look pleased about something,” Mogens drawled as Jesper appeared in the doorway, panting and disheveled. “Care to share with the less fortunate?”

“It’s nothing,” Jesper wheezed, but he kept grinning.

“Nothing, hmm?”

Busy catching his breath, Jesper didn’t deign to respond, instead he flung his things down and walked over to the desk.

“Out if my chair,” he said, propping a fist on his hip. He expected a reaction to some extent, maybe a sly comment or a slow rise from the seat, but what he did not expect was for Mogens to look up into his face, grin, and reach out to snag his hand. Warmth spread up Jesper’s arm as the ferryman kissed the back of his hand with a clearly audible smack.

“Anything for you, darlin’,” Mogens said wickedly, then he pushed himself up out of the chair and made his way toward the open door, leaving a blushing postman in his wake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little bit more excitement, little bit more backstory...

As the days continued to fly by, Jesper noticed a change in the ferryman. He seemed to become more restless, even anxious, as time passed. Jesper found him poking around in the post office more and more often, opening cabinets and even pulling up loose floorboards to investigate the space under them. Once he even woke from another strange dream to find Mogens peering under his bed again, a pained and focused expression on his face. When he saw that Jesper was awake, he straightened with a grin.

“Good morning, sweet cheeks,” he drawled. “I see you’re looking extra rested today.”

“Why are you in my bedroom again?” Jesper asked irritably. His heart wasn’t really into it, but the man being so close to the pelt’s hiding spot made him nervous. He didn’t even really know why.

“Just to greet the day with you, my dear postman,” Mogens replied.

“Okay, well, we can greet the day downstairs, so shoo.”

Shrugging, the ferryman slouched his way down the stairs as Jesper got out of bed and pulled on his clothes, thinking hard. Something warm had bloomed in his chest at the sight of the ferryman, even despite his early morning grumpiness. He walked down the stairs, thinking that it felt weird, too warm and fuzzy to be something he should be feeling. It reminded him of…

_Oh no,_ he thought, stopping dead on the bottom step of the staircase, _no, no… no!_

“Need help with that last leap?” Mogens asked, grinning as he met Jesper’s eyes, and Jesper gulped. He didn’t like the rising sweetness he could taste in his mouth, or the fluttering in his gut. It was as if he’d been cemented to the spot.

“Alright, alright, give me a moment,” the ferryman said. He cracked his back and his neck, then walked over, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “Now, don’t wiggle and I’ll help you down.”

Jesper watched, almost in slow motion, as Mogens stepped forward and wrapped his thick arms around Jesper’s body, lifting him off the step with ease and placing him carefully on the floor. He let go and stood back. 

“I’m surprised the ocean breeze hasn’t blown you away yet, you’re as light as a feather,” he said to the speechless postman, and went back to making tea.

Jesper stood stock still and tried to gather in the hurricane of feelings that had exploded in his chest at the sensation of Mogens’ body pressed against his. He thought, a little hysterically, that this might be the first time he’d felt truly warm since he’d come to Smeerensburg.

“That was— that was—” he stammered, “…very much unnecessary! And— and— Uncouth!”

“If you say so,” Mogens drawled. He turned back from the stove and held out a mug of tea. Jesper stared at him. A slow grin tweaked up the corners of the ferryman’s mouth and he said,

“If you think I’d waste energy helping you down from that perch and then poison you right after, you really need to stop rattling your head around so much.”

“I haven’t been rattling around,” Jesper protested, but he accepted the mug anyway, and drank. The tea was delicious as it always was, but for once, Jesper’s stomach was already warm. He wanted to fight it, to reject it, but he recognized the signs. It had happened to him before, and it never ended well.

He groaned and downed the rest of the scalding tea, then grabbed his bag and headed toward the door, but something rough and warm fastened around his hand, stopping him just as he was about to walk outside. Mogens’ eyes looked almost sad when he met Jesper’s gaze, then he smiled, a much softer smile than Jesper had ever seen on his mouth. Jesper gulped.

“Do you, uh, need something?” he asked uncertainly, acutely aware of the sensation of Mogens’ hand clasped around his own. The man blinked once, then his smile turned into a smirk and lifted Jesper’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Hmm, no, no I don’t believe I do,” he said, then let go of Jesper’s trembling fingers. Freed from his hold, Jesper fled out the door in a whirlwind of flying letters and skinny flailing legs. 

Mogens watched him go and chuckled, then swiveled back to face the room. His mouth twisted down into a grimace, and he walked slowly through the office, then up the stairs. He was running out of time. The chalked numbers and lines stared down at him from the wall across the upstairs room, mocking him. It had become clear after a short time that this postman had a goal, and once he accomplished that goal, he would leave. They all left eventually. Even knowing this, Mogens hadn’t been able to stop himself as he’d been drawn to the man like a moth to lantern. He’d cursed himself again and again, feeling himself falling even more in love with Jesper as the days went by. It was like he couldn’t help it; as soon as someone touched his pelt he physically couldn’t keep himself away from them. The falling in love part was his own fault, though, and every time it had happened, it hurt him in the end. He didn’t think this would be the exception. Even though he wanted to believe otherwise, it almost felt like Jesper was… a little different. Jesper had first kicked him out every day, and now… well now, he’d seemed to have accepted Mogens as part of his routine, or maybe even something more.

The ferryman reached up and touched the place on his cheek where Jesper had kissed him that one morning, and could almost feel the shadow of the postman’s lips against his skin. He was so used to being driven by the compulsion to be needed, wanted, that in the past he’d been happy just to give away his pelt to anyone just so they would keep him around. Eventually, though, it wouldn’t be enough. His heart had wanted more, but when the person had tired of him they had forcibly returned his pelt, and severed their ties to him completely. Broken hearted, he’d returned to the ocean to live for a while, until the need to seek human companionship had driven him from the depths once more. The last time he’d been tossed aside, he’d taken back his pelt and refused to return to the ocean as his own punishment. He didn’t deserve to don his skin again and seek comfort in the sea. Instead, he’d chosen to travel to this miserable island, become the captain of an old paddle steamer, and ferry people across the water between the island and the mainland. He stayed as close to the ocean as he could, unable to stray far at any time. 

When he’d first arrived on the island, the townspeople had been instantly suspicious of him. He was neither a Krum nor an Ellingboe, so neither clan trusted him, and when word had spread after he’d left his pelt out to air on one of the desk posts, they’d given him a wide berth. Someone had seen the garment and guessed, and the townspeople were superstitious enough that no one bothered him after that. He’d gotten used to just leaving the skin out to air every so often, so it wouldn’t begin to smell too funky, that he hadn’t thought anyone would ever touch it. Then, one day, he’d felt the shift. Phantom hands had touched his skin, gentle as the caress of a warm spring breeze. He doubled over as if he’d been punched in the gut, and the world had spun, then settled, and suddenly he felt the draw to turn his boat around mid-run and return to the island. Following the pull, he’d found himself at the post office.

“Oh mister postman~” he’d called, still feeling ghostly hands on his skin, and he’d been rewarded with a clatter of feet up and down the stairs inside and then a frantic yell. At the sound of the voice, he’d popped the window open and leaned in. He’d seen the blond postman trip, fall, and land on the floorboards, and a surge of something that felt like relief had poured down his throat. When the man turned, still on the floor, face crimson, Mogens had realized that a part of his world now orbited around this gangly, uncoordinated, extremely snobby postman.

The ferryman sighed, and looked around the dusty room. And so he’d fallen in love once more, real or fake he couldn’t tell at this point, but this time, he was going to end it before it broke him yet again. He simply needed to find his pelt before Christmas, then he could return to being completely unattached to anything, free to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Wasting his time on this foolish game wasn’t the way he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Jesper would never love him. No one would ever love him, after all, he wasn’t even human.

_I think I really do love him,_ Jesper thought with exasperation, looking down at the snoozing ferryman. He’d come home late again, to find Mogens asleep in his chair with his feet up on the desk.

_Is this just how I react to someone paying attention to me? Am I that pathetic?_ Rubbing his face with one cold hand, he surveyed the man again, feeling warmth spread through his chest. _It’s not just that I’m pathetic, I guess,_ he admitted to himself, _he’s… charming. And sweet underneath all the snarky sarcasm. I don’t know, maybe I’m just imagining it._

His body buzzed, his lips tingled. Resisting the urge to bend and kiss the ferryman, Jesper spun toward the stairs with a wild, unintelligible mutter, then paused as he heard Mogens stir.

“Come here, postman.” 

The low murmur sent shivers over Jesper’s skin, but in spite of his trepidation, he turned back around and walked hesitantly over to where the ferryman was holding out his hand in a beckoning gesture. 

“Closer,” Mogens said. He grasped the hem of Jesper’s coat and tugged him forward. “C’mon, lean down, I gotta tell you something.”

Jesper nearly choked on his own tongue in surprise as Mogens reached up and cupped his cheek in one hand, then gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him softly on the mouth. It was a quick, slightly chapped kiss, but it sent a bolt of lightning through Jesper’s heart. The ferryman let him go.

“G’night,” the man grunted, then seemed to fall back asleep. Retreating slowly, Jesper pressed a shaky hand over his lips. He could hardly breathe. His chest ached fiercely, and no matter how often he swallowed, a sweet taste still lingered in his mouth. The stairs caught his toes twice as he made his way up to bed, though he hardly noticed. When he fell into bed, his thoughts were consumed with the man downstairs, and he fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by dreams he couldn’t understand, in a language he didn’t know.

Jesper did his best to act normal the next day, and the ferryman didn’t even seem to remember what had happened the night before. He greeted Jesper in his usual sarcastic manner, drank some tea, then wandered off. Unnerved by this, Jesper was distracted all day, only finding his focus that night while delivering presents with Klaus. Christmas was drawing closer, and he was going to have to think fast to meet his letter quota. He’d think of something.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue in the last part of this chapter is from the movie, so it lines up with the actual events, but now there's backstory and context...

A few days before Christmas, Jesper was beginning to get nervous. So much relied on this one event, if anything went wrong, everything would come crumbling down around his ears, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was hoping would happen if they were successful. Anxiety made him jumpy. He jumped, tripped, and stumbled around all day, then returned to the post office once his daily business was finished. As usual, he found the ferryman snoozing at the desk.

“Only reliable in this sense, I suppose,” Jesper mumbled to himself, and retreated upstairs. Though an inexplicable urge told him to be cautious, he couldn’t help but quietly tug back his mattress to reveal the pelt underneath. He reached out. As soon as his fingers touched the smooth, slippery pelt, he relaxed and sighed. It felt as soft as it always did, almost warm under his hands. He sighed again.

“What are you doin’ up there, postman? Cranking one out?”

The ferryman’s lazy drawl had an electrifying effect on Jesper. He nearly levitated out of his boots in his surprise.

“I am most certainly not!” Jesper yelled indignantly. “You crude bastard!”

“Well, stop making those noises then, a fella might get the wrong idea.”

Jesper felt himself turn crimson, and pulled his mattress back over the pelt, cursing the ferryman under his breath.

Christmas Eve day arrived, and Jesper woke feeling anxious and excited in equal measure. He got dressed and headed downstairs, to find the ferryman in his usual spot.

“Beautiful weather for the special day, hmm?” Mogens said, and winked. He sounded cheerful enough, but dark purple half-circles hung under his eyes, and his eyes themselves looked dull and empty. Brow furrowing, Jesper poured his tea and walked over to perch on the desk. He looked down at the ferryman.

“You don’t look so good,” he commented, and sipped his tea. “Have you been napping enough?”

Mogens let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“Of course, I always do.”

Still suspicious, Jesper kept half an eye on him as he prepared for the morning, then he made to leave. 

“Wait,” the ferryman said. Jesper halted, one foot out the door.

“What, do you need a kiss goodbye?” he demanded. He was eager to get to Klaus’ house and begin the day’s work. When he didn’t hear a reply to his question, he swiveled around to give Mogens one last scorching comment, and instead found the man right behind him. He met the ferryman’s gaze, seeing something in the half-lidded, jet black eyes that made him feel both deeply uncomfortable and giddy at the same time.

“Is that a yes?” his traitorous mouth asked. 

“Hmm?” 

Mogens lifted a hand and slowly curled his fingers in Jesper’s hair, a gesture that left the postman feeling like jelly, then carefully pulled him down. Jesper threw caution to the winds in a moment of excitement and general nerves, and closed the last inch between their mouths of his own accord. His heart fluttered. He wrapped his arms around Mogens neck and kissed him energetically, and the ferryman responded by gripping Jesper’s waist and tipping his head back to deepen the kiss. They broke for air, then kissed again. After a solid thirty seconds, Jesper released the ferryman like he was made of hot coals and spun around, then ran out the door, calling, 

“I’ll be home late!”

Mogens tried to catch his breath. He’d intended just to tease the postman a little before he left, but instead he’d been caught off guard. His chest hurt, the pain clawing its way up into his throat. Jesper was just over-excited about the day. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t… 

_Get a hold of yourself,_ he thought, rubbing his face. _You have only a few more places you haven’t looked, and today is your last chance to leave before he tosses you aside like garbage. Just cut the shit and bite the bullet._

He walked upstairs.

Too much had happened too quickly, and Jesper’s head was spinning. He was reeling, full of a foul cocktail of confusion, remorse, regret, and indecisiveness. On the one hand, he could go back to his comfortable life on the mainland, to the delicious food and the silk sheets, and on the other… well, he didn’t feel finished with Smeerensburg yet, and he wasn’t even entirely sure he wanted to leave.

He slouched out of his father’s carriage and walked down the dock, his steps only faltering slightly when he saw the boatman. 

“Well, now, finally leaving, aren’t we?” Mogens said with a false sounding little laugh. Despite the kiss they’d shared that morning, Jesper didn’t feel like he had anything to say to the man that would absolve him of what he’d done, so he didn’t reply.

“Anchors aweigh, Captain,” Jesper’s father began, “we’re sailing off at once—”

“Well, that’s a first,” Mogens said, interrupting the man. He’d straightened out of his usual slouching posture and was looking at Jesper’s dejected form, eyes wide.

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Never saw a postman looking more miserable leaving than on the day they came in.” 

He paused, then grinned and said,

“Oh well. Best leave it alone, I say.” He turned back to the mooring lines. “I’m sure it’s nothing that could fester and eventually become a source of resentment and regret.”

He’d said his bit, and all he needed to do was wait for Jesper to make his decision. He wasn’t even sure what to expect, though as he watched the father and son begin a murmured conversation, he felt a twinge of sadness. He had already made his own decision. Even if Jesper stayed, it wasn’t for him. It would be for his new friends Klaus and Alva, and all the Sami people he’d been working with in Klaus’ shop.

He started a bit as Jesper suddenly stood and hugged his father, then walked passed him without a word. Not waiting to feel worse about the situation, Mogens addressed the postman’s father.

“I guess we should be off, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop 
> 
> things begin to head toward the crisis point after this... this was the calm before the proverbial storm, if you will


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for semi-suicidal thoughts, lowkey depression, and near death experience

Jesper returned to the post office after the sun had risen the next morning. To his surprise, it was empty except for a few sleepy chickens, the stove cold and smokeless. He’d been expecting Mogens to be there, tipped back in the chair like he always was, boots leaving wet stains on Jesper’s papers. Something felt off. A fierce ache began to throb in his temples. He dragged himself upstairs, then froze. The mattress had clearly been moved, the blankets and sheets ripped back to show the naked futon, and the sled beneath it all was bare.

“Oh no,” Jesper murmured. “No, no, no!”

He ran forward and lifted the futon up completely to look under it, but the pelt was gone. Shock and sadness gripped his lungs, cutting off his air. He didn’t want to believe that it had gone, and a sudden emptiness bit deep into his stomach. 

_He’s gone,_ he realized, dropping down onto the futon, _he took his pelt and left._ … _But that’s absurd. Those creatures aren’t real, they’re just fairytales to explain missing spouses and children with webbed hands and toes. It can’t possibly be real… can it?_

He sprang to his feet and ran down the stairs and out of the post office. Alva would know. She’d mentioned something about it that one time, she was the only one who might…

“Alva,” he gasped, arriving at her house just as she was preparing to leave. “Alva, Mogens is… gone.”

“He’s probably just on his boat,” she replied. “What makes you think he’s gone?”

Wheezing, Jesper tried to gesture to explain, then found the air to say,

“Because… _it’s_ gone.”

Alva stared at him for a moment, then she shrugged.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t exactly summon one of them whenever I want.”

“You know, though,” Jesper said. “Where would he go?”

“Alright, fine, I’ll humor you. Let’s check the boat first,” Alva told him, gently taking his arm, “then we can jump to conclusions.” 

Mogens was not in his boat, which was still tied to the dock. He wasn’t in town, he wasn’t at the bar… it was like he’d vanished into thin air.

“So, he’s really gone, then,” Jesper said, standing on the docks and looking out at the horizon.

“What did you expect? If you haven’t figured it out by now, his kind isn’t exactly the type to stick around.”

“I don’t… I didn’t… know, exactly,” Jesper mumbled. “I’m still not sure I believe it.”

“Well take it from me,” Alva told him. She paused, then sighed.

“One of them fell for my mother when she was young, after she accidentally picked up his skin on the beach. She wasn’t interested, so she made him take back the skin to break their ties. He was young as well, and apparently it broke his heart, so he immediately returned to the sea. It… left its mark on her, too. When I was a child, she told me never to touch anything that looked like a strange, silvery-brown pelt. It’s too bad that your mother never warned you.”

“She died when I was young,” Jesper said bitterly, the old scars from that wound twinging inside him. “I barely remember her.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Alva did sound upset by that information, but she did nothing more than pat him on the shoulder.

“Well, you can’t do anything else about him,” she said, jerking her head at the water. “He won’t be back again for a long time, maybe forever. If you… well, if you need someone to talk to, I’ll be at my house.” 

She left him standing at the docks, staring out at the water. The icy gray waves did nothing to soothe his inner turmoil. He walked onto the vacant boat, absently touching the ropes and running his fingers over the steering wheel. If all their ties were broken now, why did he feel so… lonely?

With Christmas over, Jesper didn’t have much to do. He went about his daily business in a zombie-like trance, not caring to return greetings or stop to talk. As time passed, he lost the will to continue on his rounds, only going out to collect letters when irritable townsfolk banged on his door. He began spending long hours down at the dock, looking out at the horizon as the ferryman had once done, and wishing against his beliefs that he would see something, _anything,_ that could tell him where the man had gone. Once or twice he thought he saw something dark bob to the surface of the water far out in the surf, but as soon as he blinked and looked again it was gone. Thoughts began to spiral in his mind, darknesses that frightened him. He tried not to entertain them, but sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. The water began to look almost inviting, but he knew better than to jump in. It was mid February, and the water was as cold as it was in the dead of winter. Sometimes he would sit down, his legs tired from standing for too long, and just stare blindly into his hands. The pelt was gone, any possible unexplainable magic between them broken, but he couldn’t accept that Mogens was truly never coming back. 

He sat like that on the dock one night, his heart aching fiercely. Swallowing felt like pins and needles were scoring his throat. His stomach was a gaping void. This was different than any other heartbreak he’d ever had, though he realized that this was indeed heartbreak. He’d fallen for the ferryman harder than he thought was possible. Head in his hands, Jesper allowed a few tears fall into the black water beneath him.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, and wiped his eyes. “A grown man, crying and moping because he was rejected …I really am pathetic.” 

He began to push himself up off the dock, but his pant leg caught on a rough edge of one of the planks and threw off his balance. His arms reeled, his heart stuttered, and with a shout, he tumbled backwards into the freezing water below. 

The cold hit him immediately. It was like a fist of ice closed around him with shocking force, squeezing his ribs in its iron grip. He felt himself sinking as his panicked lungs demanded air, but he couldn’t move his shocked and aching limbs to bring himself back to the surface. The water was just too cold. It sank into his bones, creeping deeper into his core.

It was too much for him; he couldn’t keep fighting. He was tired. It would be so much easier just to give into the cold and sink to the ocean floor. He closed his eyes, bubbles escaping his lips, and thought of the ferryman, remembering man’s stupid grins, his silly, softer smiles, his snarky sarcasm, and the feel of his lips against Jesper’s own, then he knew no more.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for water vom

Darkness enveloped him. Through the strange murkiness, he suddenly saw light, but only just a sliver. He couldn’t understand what it was coming from. Was he dead? That didn’t sound right. He felt too cold to be dead. Too cold and heavy.

Something pressed down hard on his chest and his body rebelled, throwing up the water that had been clogging his airway, then sucking in air like a… well, like a nearly drowned man. He tried to sit up, but a hand pushed him back down. Unable to see much more than light and dark shapes, Jesper was shocked when lips fastened around his mouth and blew, rather rudely, into his lungs. He was about to protest when more water decided to pour out of his throat. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard that fish don’t send letters?” a drawling voice said from above him. “They don’t need to, cause most fish just use telegraphs instead.”

“What?” Jesper wheezed. He couldn’t believe his ears. This had to be some sort of cruel trick. “Who is that?”

For a moment, all he heard was silence.

“You hurt me, postman,” the voice said. “I guess you’ve already forgotten me, then? It didn’t take very long.”

Jesper rubbed his eyes, and opened them very slowly. Shapes and definition were returning to his vision, little by little. He reached up and ran a hand over the persons face, feeling a large nose, wide chin, and stubbly jaw.

“So does this mean I’m actually dead?” he asked, beginning to feel a bit hysterical.

“Nope. At least not this time, but if you pull that maneuver again you will be.”

Peering blearily up, Jesper was finally able to make out the face in front of him, and his breath hitched in his already protesting lungs. He inhaled sharply, then pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned to face the man beside him.

“Why did you just disappear like that?!” he yelled, pounding his fists against Mogens’ bare chest. “You were just gone, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t—” He gasped and realized that tears had begun to leak out of his eyes. Swiping them away with an angry hand, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the ferryman’s blessedly warm shoulder. A hand awkwardly patted his back.

“Does this mean that you really _have_ fallen for me, postman?” Mogens asked. “And all those times you tripped over things I thought you were just being clumsy.”

“I can’t help being clumsy,” Jesper said. When the Mogens didn’t protest his touch, he collapsed against the man’s front and sighed. The ferryman waited a moment, then said,

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, you never answered mine!” Jesper snapped.

“Fair.”

Mogens’ arms slid around the postman, pulling him tighter against his body, and though his skin was beaded with droplets of cold water, Jesper didn’t object. 

“You weren’t supposed to come after me,” Mogens rasped. “You weren’t supposed to be different than any of the others. I wanted to leave before everything repeated itself, and… before you decided to leave.”

“I’m not leaving!” Jesper said loudly.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? By the time you chose to stay, I’d already found my pelt.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Well, I didn’t look very hard, now, did I? You know, under the mattress isn’t the most original hiding place,” the ferryman said sardonically, then he swallowed and said, “I had to search for it anyway, it’s… an inherent compulsion. Can’t exactly fight my ancestry.”

“I’m sorry I took it,” Jesper mumbled, feeling his body slowly beginning to warm. “I don’t really know what happened.”

“Oh, for once it isn’t your fault, postman.” Mogens let out a low, bitter chuckle. “It’s magic. Some people are just more drawn in than others, yeah? ...I, uh, couldn’t help but notice that you touched it a lot.” 

A moment of silence passed.

“You… could feel—?!”

A small smile tugged at the corner of the ferryman’s mouth. Jesper let out a mortified wail and recoiled from his body.

“Nope,” Mogens said, tugging Jesper back against him, “you’re still cold.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jesper groaned. 

“Stop it with the apologies, postman. ...Plus, it felt pretty nice. No one’s ever spent so much time touching my pelt before.”

Too embarrassed for words, Jesper just grumbled quietly and let the heat from Mogens’ skin seep into his chilled body. Eventually, he felt warm and lucid enough to lean back and take a better look at the ferryman. They were sitting on the floor of Mogens’ boat. It was still nighttime, but by the light from the nearby hanging lamp Jesper could tell that the other man was soaking wet from head to toe, and completely naked, his dignity only barely preserved by the silvery gray-brown thing that was draped over his lap. Jesper gulped, torn between a desire to flinch away from the object that has started this disaster, and the desire to touch the silky garment.

“You know I won’t stop you from taking it again,” Mogens said. He watched Jesper with empty eyes. “It’s against my nature.”

“God, I don’t want to take it! If I’d had any idea that it would force you to stay near me against your will I— I never would’ve touched it in the first place!” Jesper gasped. He shivered, from cold and from distress, and tucked his traitorous hands under his armpits.

“I’d want… I mean, if you… ugh,” he continued. He couldn’t find the right words, and his tongue seemed to be refusing to cooperate anyway. 

“Take your time. I don’t have anywhere to be,” Mogens drawled. Jesper glared at him.

“I don’t want to magically make you stay with me. I’d rather that you…oh god, I’ll say it… I’d rather you stay because you want to,” he managed, the final words spilling from him in a disorganized tumble. Heat flooded his cheeks, and he looked hastily away. Silence greeted his words. He began to feel cold dread creeping into this heart.

“So, it wasn’t just the magic, then?” Mogens asked. He scratched his chin. “I was sure it was just the pelt doing its thing.”

Drops of water flew in all directions as Jesper shook his head. A sweet taste began to fill his mouth.

“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “I haven’t touched it again, right?”

“Nope.”

“And I still… well…”

His hands shook slightly as he reached out and ran his fingers over Mogens wet shoulders. The ferryman closed his eyes. A quiet sigh escaped his lips. 

“I didn’t think I’d miss you so much,” Jesper said softly. 

“I didn’t think anyone would miss me at all, then I happen to find you about to drown beside the dock. Did you jump? That’s a poor way to deal with things.”

“I fell in by accident!” 

“Mhm, if you say so.”

“It’s nice to know you haven’t changed,” Jesper grumbled. “Despite the whole…” He waved his hands. “… _Magic_ thing.”

“Same old me,” Mogens said, and grinned.

“Great, that’s exactly what I needed.”

Jesper ruined the effect of his sarcasm by bending forward until his face was inches from the ferryman’s. Mogens’ eyes widened.

“Was it only the magic for you?” Jesper asked, his voice not more than a whisper, and a slow but steady grin spread across Mogens’ face.

“I guess not.”

Leaning forward the last few inches, Jesper kissed him carefully. The ferryman pulled him close again and their breaths mingled, the sweet taste Jesper had noticed before overwhelming his senses until he was gasping with it.

“Will you come back?” he asked when they drew apart, his voice breathless. He watched for a reaction, but Mogens only blinked and rubbed an arm across his nose. 

“Part of me needs the sea, you know that, right, postman?” he finally said. His eyes were sad when he met Jesper’s gaze. “…Let me think about it.”

Jesper nodded. An empty sadness crept into his chest, but he did his best to shove it away.

“Hey, hey, don’t look so down,” Mogens told him, lifting a hand and gently gripping the back of Jesper’s neck. “I don’t have the integrity it takes to disappear forever.”

Jesper chuckled weakly and let the ferryman pull him in again, returning the man’s kiss with trembling lips.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back to the post office,” Mogens said after a long moment, breaking away and getting to his feet. “You need to get into dry clothes, pronto.”

He offered his hand to Jesper, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled up.

“Actually,” Jesper said, eyes fixed awkwardly on the pelt that had slipped to the ground as Mogens stood, “I know it’s a bit of a weird request, but, um, can I see how…” He gestured to the skin.

The ferryman followed his gaze, then looked down at his naked body.

“Oh, well, I’ve never had a witness before. I don’t mind, but be warned, I have terrible stage fright.”

He winked and bent to pick up the skin. In his hands, it stretched and flexed, growing visibly larger in front of Jesper’s astonished eyes. 

“Get back on the dock,” Mogens said, “it’s easier to get into the water from there. Unless you’d like to lift me over the side of the boat?”

“Definitely not,” Jesper replied.

They stepped out onto the dock, and Mogens sat down on the planks.

“Now, go home and get dry, and don’t you go falling in again while I’m gone,” he said. His eyes twinkled. “I don’t know if I could pull you back from that state more than once.”

Before Jesper could respond, Mogens began to pull the pelt up around his feet. It molded to his skin, and started to fill out as he shifted and tugged it into place. Jesper watched, hardly believing what he was seeing. When the skin was up to his armpits, Mogens grinned.

“See you later, postman,” he said, and yanked the rest of the pelt over his head. His form wriggled, settled, and when Jesper blinked again, he saw a very large, extremely fat seal lying belly-up on the dock. The animal showed its pointed teeth in a wicked smile, its black eyes sparkling, then slapped its ample middle with its flippers and rolled off the planks. It hit the water with a smack.

“I hardly think that was necessary,” Jesper called after it, but the only response he got was a flick of distant flippers and a splash.

Jesper watched until the creature was gone, then plodded slowly up the hill toward the post office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue now...
> 
> (also I stg I had this entire fic written and beta-read before I even started posting it, so the fact that seal!Mogens slapping his belly was something we all thought of separately amused me very much, like, same hat, y'all)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Light filtered gradually into Jesper’s senses, drawing him out of a deep and dreamless sleep. He sat up, narrowly avoiding knocking his forehead on the beam above the bed, and yawned. It took him a minute to adjust to the sunlight in the room. He blinked furiously, then inhaled. The scent of woodsmoke tickled his senses.

“Did he—” Jesper muttered, excitement and nerves sending a thrill over his skin, and jumped out of bed, then pulled on his pants and ran down the stairs two at a time, nearly falling down the last few in his haste.

“Careful there, postman, I’d hate to have to scrape you off the floor so early in the morning.”

In his usual spot, boots propped up on the desk and shedding snow and pine needles onto Jesper’s papers, sat the ferryman, his favorite crooked grin lighting up his face. He held out a steaming mug.

“Come ‘n get it.”

Jesper walked over and pushed the mug aside, instead choosing to bend down to kiss the man firmly on the mouth. Tangling his fingers in Jesper’s hair, Mogens returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

“You taste like fish,” Jesper told him, drawing back and wrinkling his nose.

“Breakfast,” Mogens said. “Want some? I think I left a piece or two out on the dock.”

“Oh, gross!”

“C’mon postman, are you really gonna let a little fish breath scare you away?”

Scowling, Jesper crossed his arms and glared down at him, but he couldn’t hold the expression for long. The twinkle in the ferryman’s eye undid him. He chuckled and leaned over to kiss him again, fish breath or no.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Jesper said. “Even if you do stink. I hope you’ll… um, think about sticking around.”

“I’ll stick around as long as you’ll have me,” Mogens replied, reaching out to take Jesper’s hand. “And I’m glad to be back, truth be told,” he continued, pulling the hand to his mouth and kissing it gently, then he let go with a grin and a wink. “I love the sea, but it’s hardly as entertaining as you are, my dear postman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed :D


End file.
